


What Just Happened?

by tarrysmith



Series: Happenings [1]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarrysmith/pseuds/tarrysmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OFC is an older woman who happens to meet Tom on the bus. What follows is the stuff of fantasy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On The Bus

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first multi-chapter, so be kind. My writing has improved quite a bit, but I'm still quite fond of this story! Enjoy!

Chapter 1: On The Bus

You climb aboard the bus after a long, tiring day at work, once more cursing your car that wouldn’t start that morning. The bus is crowded with commuters, and you find yourself with standing room only, in the aisle near the front, where the single rows of inbound-facing seats reserved for the elderly and disabled are located. You are pinned up against the man sitting in the seat in front of you, other passengers giving you no choice, pressing against your back. You grab the pole, and brace yourself. As the bus begins to move, you take a minute to study the man sitting in the seat in front of you. He is younger than you, probably around the age of your oldest daughter, maybe a little older, and from what you can see, he appears quite handsome. You may be a grandmother, but you still enjoy looking at a pretty man, so you continue to study him, as his head is down, and he is totally engrossed in a sheaf of papers, reading intently and occasionally pausing to make notes with a red pen, not paying any attention to anything going on around him. He’s dressed in dark denim jeans, a white V-necked t-shirt, a leather jacket, and boots. From what you can tell, under his ball cap, his hair is blond and curly, and he has a little ginger scruff on his face. He is very tall, and his legs are way too long for the space he is trying to occupy, and the woman sitting in the seat next to him is giving him dirty looks, as his knees are wide-spread, shoving into her space. He finally notices, and you hear him murmur an apology to her. You can’t hear his words, but his voice sounds low and rich, and somehow familiar, and then he is trying to find somewhere else to put those gorgeous long, slim legs. He can’t help finally noticing you, as his movements have caused his feet to move between yours, and at this point, you are practically straddling him. You want to be quick to reassure him that you know he doesn’t really have anyplace else to put those legs, and that you don’t mind at all, when he looks up and your eyes meet his. Your stomach drops as you recognize those blue, blue eyes and see that gazillion-watt smile, tongue between his teeth. It’s your favorite actor, Tom Hiddleston, sitting on the city bus with his feet tucked firmly between yours. You raise your free hand to your lips, as you give a little gasp, and he gives a little shake of his head, winks at you, and brings one index finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, and then his eyes plead with you to not give him away. You give a tiny nod: his secret is safe with you, and he smirks up at you. You remember reading that he was part of a film crew filming here, and while you do consider yourself a huge fan girl, you are too old to try to chase after an actor, so you never thought you would ever get anywhere near him. You are giddy, but a little sad as you realize that in order to keep his secret, you won’t be able to get an autograph, let alone a selfie, and you sigh a little. No one is ever gonna believe you! He gives you another wink, then goes back to his papers.

You try not to stare, but he is truly beautiful, and you are so in awe. He pauses, seems to come to a decision, then turns his papers over and begins to write on the blank back of the page. When he finishes, he looks up at you and hands you the sheaf of papers and the pen, and you read what he has written:

“You seem to know who I am, but I want to introduce myself anyway. Hi, I’m Tom. Thank you soooo much for not giving me away. That is truly so kind of you.”

You write back, then pass the papers and pen back to him, watching as he reads:

“Hi. Tom, I’m (name). What on earth are you doing on the (city) bus?”

You take turns writing back and forth to each other.

Tom: “We just finished filming here in (city), and we’re returning to London to put the finishing touches on the movie on Monday, but as I have the weekend here, and I’m hungry, I’m on my way to find some dinner. Would you please consider joining me?”

You: “Why on earth would you want to have dinner with an old gramma like me? Surely you have a pretty, young costar that would be a better companion!”

He makes a little face after reading that, shakes his head, and continues passing you notes.

Tom: “Oh no no no! Tonight, I really just want to be with someone who isn’t trying so hard, who doesn’t care about fame. I think you are absolutely lovely and I would like nothing better than to take you to dinner tonight.”

You feel yourself blush a little, looking down at your Friday business casual attire, and shrug.

You: “Well, in that case I would like nothing better than to go with you!”


	2. At Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure continues!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story morphed as I was writing it. Hmmm, they always do! Enjoy!

Chapter 2: At Dinner

Tom looks up at you, a huge grin on his face, writes some more, then hands it all back to you.

Tom: ”Thank you! I will let you pick the place.”

You: “I’ll let you know what stop to get off at, and we can get off the bus separately, and meet up outside. Is Italian ok?”

Tom: “I love Italian! Just let me know what stop, and I’ll pull the bell.”

You: “Two more stops!”

As the stop approaches, you catch his eye and nod. Your passing notes has attracted the attention of Tom’s disgruntled neighbor, so you think it’s not a moment too soon. Tom reaches up and pulls the stop bell, and you begin to make your way to the very front of the bus. Tom lets a few other passengers get between you, and then he too begins moving to the front of the bus. You get off, then move out of the way, waiting for Tom. Finally, he is off the bus, and he almost runs up to you, glancing around you. No one seems to be paying attention to you, and he gives you another one of those huge smiles, and pulls you to him and gives you a big hug. He absolutely towers over you, 6’2” to your 5’5”, and he has to bend over to do it. You are pretty sure it is the best hug you have ever had, and you promise yourself that you will apologize to your husband of 31 years when you see him later for thinking it.

“It’s this way,“ you say, starting off. “We can walk.”

“Oh (name),” Tom says happily, and you are captivated by the sound of his voice, “Thank you so much for taking pity on me. I really didn’t relish eating dinner alone, but I just had to get away from all those actors and film people!” He grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers, and swings your clasped hands between you as you walk. You laugh at what he has said, and he looks at you. “What?” he asks, and you giggle again.

“Actors and film people,” you repeat, laughing again. “Tom, you’re awesome! And I just can’t believe that I am with you, and that you are-“ you know you’re about to have a fan girl moment, but you manage to keep from squealing as you say,” Tom, you’re holding my hand!”

“Yes… That’s ok isn’t it?” Tom asks uncertainly.

“Oh, it’s absolutely capital!” you say delightedly, swinging your two hands yourself this time.

And you arrive at the restaurant. It is one of your family favorites, and you go in and give your name to the reception people, asking to have a one of the less conspicuous tables. You are told that it will be a 20 minute wait, and they give you a pager. The place is on the river, so you take Tom outside to show him the view. He is suitably impressed, and you decide that his reputation for being a nice guy is deserved. The pager goes off, and you return to the restaurant and are shown to your table. It is in the back, out of the way, and you breathe a little easier, pretty sure that you can protect Tom’s anonymity. You order and wait for your food. Tom has his elbow resting on the table, his chin in his hand, and he is gazing at you with rapt attention as you tell him about your family (husband, 3 grown children, 2 sons-in-law, 4 grandchildren), your job, your hobbies (singing and Scouting). He asks you about the city.

“Is there any way you could spare some time to show me around?” he asks.

“You’re kidding, right? “ you ask him, thinking there’s no way he’s serious, and if he is, then maybe you’re really dead and this is Heaven.

“No, really,” he says earnestly, giving you the famous “puppy eyes” look. “I’m only here til Monday, and if l dither around on my own, I’ll never see the good stuff. But if you show me…” he is almost beside himself with excitement, and it is so cute and endearing, of course you will spend tomorrow taking him around.

If you can get your car to start.

Erg. This is where you came in, although if it hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t have taken the bus and met Tom in the first place, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise, but…

You will need that car tomorrow.

You take out your cell phone. “I need to text my husband,” you say. “The reason l was taking the bus today at all is because my car wouldn’t start.”

This is the text you send your husband: [You will not believe what happened to me today. But long story short, can you get my car to start?]

Your husband’s reply: [Of course I’ll try. And you will tell me all about it when you get home?]

You: [Of course! But you’re not gonna believe it…]

You put your phone away and turn back to Tom. ”We are good to go tomorrow,” you say. “Do I get you for all day?” You need to know how much time you have to plan where to take him.

“Oh yes!!” he says enthusiastically, “and all night, too!”

And he gives you a rather suggestive wink.


	3. In Which You Tell your Husband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotta tell your man...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

Chapter 3: In Which You Tell your Husband

At Tom’s words, you let out a little gasp. You aren’t sure what he means by that. It seems a little flirty. If it weren’t for the almost lascivious wink, you wouldn’t think anything of it. You decide to forget about it for now, and file it away for processing later.

Your meals are fantastic, and Tom is a fascinating fellow. He seems genuinely excited to be there with you. After a while, he does tend to monopolize the conversation, but he’s so fun to listen to that you don’t mind. He tells you the name of his hotel, you know where it is, and you agree to pick him up at 8 am tomorrow, because he wants to get an early start and not waste a minute.

After dinner, Tom calls a taxi. He holds your hand on the way to your house, asking you to point out highlights of your city that you pass along the way.

When you reach your house, Tom walks you to your door. You unlock it, but before you can go in, Tom pulls you into another great hug, thanking you profusely for taking pity on him and going out to dinner.

“It was certainly my pleasure,” you assure him.

He backs out of the hug, but leaves his hands on your shoulders. He bends down and gives you a chaste, friendly kiss on the mouth. Inside, you are totally fan girl squealing, but outside you manage to keep your cool. But Tom Hiddleston has kissed you!

“Goodnight, (name),” Tom says enthusiastically. “I am so incredibly excited about tomorrow! Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome! Goodnight Tom!” you say. “See you tomorrow bright and early!”

Tom gets back in the cab, and it drives away, and you enter your house.

Your husband is in bed reading, and you greet him briefly before performing your usual bedtime routine: wash face, brush teeth, put on pajamas. Then you join him in bed.

He is the love of your life, and after all the years, he is your best friend as well as your lover. Your relationship is still passionate, the edges just knocked off by all your shared experiences. You make love, and it is long, slow, and sweet. You are both sated, and your husband holds you and asks, “So, tell me about your day.”

You: “You know my car wouldn’t start, and I had to take the bus to work.”

Him: “Yes, I’m sorry about that. You should be OK tomorrow. It seems to have just been a loose wire.”

You: “Well, you’re not gonna guess who was on the evening bus!”

Him: “Give me a hint!”

You: “I think I mentioned that a movie’s been being filmed in town.”

Him: “Tom Hiddleston was on your bus!”

“Yes!” you gush, “And I was the only one who recognized him, and I kept it a secret, and he asked me to have dinner with him, so I took him for Italian. He brought me home in a taxi, and tomorrow he wants me to show him around town. He’s going home on Monday. That’s why I need the car tomorrow.”

Him: “I wondered why you were late getting home, although I only beat you by about 15 minutes. At Scouts tonight, we planned a camping overnight, so I won‘t be home this weekend, so tomorrow you go and have fun.”

You think about it, and decide to tell your husband about the odd thing Tom said. “I asked Tom if we have all day tomorrow, and he said ‘yes,’ and all night, too, and he gave me a kinda flirty wink. I’m not sure what to make of it!” you say.

“Well,” your husband says, “I know that this whole thing is a fantasy come true for you. I know you aren’t going to leave me for Tom, but if he propositions you, you should go for it. You will always wonder about it if you don’t!” You know he is joking, but that he is serious as well. “It won’t be considered cheating, just like it won’t be cheating for me when Sandra Bullock comes wanting me!” You both laugh. You have had this discussion before, but neither one of you ever expected anything to actually come true.

You kiss him and say, “You’re the best!” Then you fall asleep in each other’s arms


	4. Sight Seeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 and fake Chapter 5, because I originally posted this to a blog where you weren't supposed to rate the chapters individually, and this is all quite mild until the real chapter 5, which is where the smut is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the fake chapter 5 that is included here! I really enjoyed writing it! Let me know if you'd like an explanation! ;D

Chapter 4: Sight-Seeing

You get up early the next day, to shower, brush teeth, and dress. You dress in T-shirt and jeans and comfortable shoes for walking.

Your husband has been gone for several hours; as he left, he kissed you, saying, “I’ll be back late Sunday afternoon. I hope you have the best time. Don’t worry, this is a fantasy, and everything is allowed in fantasies, so have fun! I love you!”

“You are the best husband ever, and I don’t deserve you! Have a great campout, see you Sunday, and l love you, too! So much!” you tell him, hugging him tight.

You’re early to pick up Tom, but you send him a text anyway, to tell him you’re outside, and to your surprise, he comes right out, bouncing like Tigger, so much energy, excitement, and enthusiasm, and it’s contagious. He greets you with a big hug and another chaste, friendly kiss on the mouth (effectively stealing your breath away). You still have your phone in your hand, and, just as you have read, he snatches it from you, (“my arms are so much longer, darling”), wraps an arm around your shoulders, scrunches down to your height, exclaims, “Selfies! I love selfies!” and proceeds to take several. The last one he takes is of him kissing you on the cheek. They’re fabulous! Even in his ball cap and shades, you can tell it‘s him!

“Can you please post these on facebook and twitter for me? On Monday?” he asks.

“Of course,“ you say. “Gladly!”

“Oh my goodness, I’m unbelievably excited!” he says happily, and you get into your car. “What are you showing me?”

“Well,” you say, “I thought we’d start downtown at the art museum. Then go to the museum of science and industry, (city) history museum, and then finish at the zoo. I hope you like museums…” your voice trails off.

“I think museums are brilliant!” he says enthusiastically, and you relax a little.

You stroll around the galleries of the art museum, and Tom knows more about the art than you do. It’s like he is taking you around, instead of you taking him. As always, he has a lot to say, but what he says is so interesting and knowledgeable, and his voice! Tom Hiddleston’s voice! You encourage him to keep talking.

After longer than you thought you’d be there, you leave for the museum of science and industry. Tom is like a kid in a candy store. He rushes around, trying to see everything, and you trail in his wake. He winds up in the Atmospheric, Air, and Water Pressure Room, where there are a lot of hands-on experiments demonstrating the presence of, well, atmospheric, air, and water pressure. He darts around, trying all the experiments, laughing and grinning in his very-recognizable way, and, of course, he is recognized by a group of children and their parents. Cries of “Loki! Loki!” fill the air, and you spend half an hour or so taking pictures of little fans and parents, all the while, Tom is signing autographs, “bless you for saying that!” and “thank you so much!” and “I’m so sorry” coming constantly out of his mouth. People are kneeling, and you feel as if you are in a You Tube video.

After a while, the crowd disperses, and you herd Tom towards your car for the next adventure.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Tom says apologetically. ”I let my enthusiasm get away from me and l got caught. Sometimes I’m not as careful as I should be…”

“That is totally OK!” you assure him. “It was really fun to see you interacting with the kids that way. So kind and gracious… You are an amazingly awesome guy!”

He uses the line on you: “Bless you for saying that! But the truth is, I love children!”

Next stop: (City) Historical museum. This was once the home of one of the founding fathers of the city, a palatial estate where the furnishings have been lovingly and painstakingly recovered and restored, or accurately recreated. Tom is entranced, and enthuses over all the things that you have always loved about the mansion (your favorite part has always been the Master Bath shower, which has multiple shower heads at varying heights, which seem so luxurious and ahead of their time). You stop to enjoy the view from the lawn, which is spectacular. Tom is suitably impressed.

The Carriage House has been made into a Tea Shop, and Tom insists on taking you there and buying you Earl Grey and pudding. You are amused when Tom explains that the British English word ‘pudding’ really means ‘dessert’, and what he orders for you both is really more like what you would call cake. You knew that, but you are enchanted by listening to him saying it.

Your last stop of the day is the (state) zoo. You are aware that zoos are somewhat controversial anymore, but Tom is quick to assure you that he is more than happy to visit. “Oh sweetheart, l love zoos!“ he says excitedly. Your zoo is mostly very modern and progressive, and Tom has a great time seeing the Penguinarium, the African Savannah, the Alaskan Tundra, and the South American Rain Forest exhibits. His delight when you get to the bears is amazing. He busts out into the Bare Necessities song from Disney’s The Jungle Book, taking your hands and dancing with you, encouraging you to sing along. The two of you perform the whole song, and then Tom, channeling Phil Harris as Baloo, performs the signature dance, wiggling his bum in a perfect impression, and you can’t help laughing with delight. Of course, the inevitable happens once more, and Tom is recognized, and a much larger crowd gathers. This time, it takes over an hour before Tom regretfully tells his fans that he really must get back to his zoo tour. The crowd groans, but Tom has been so sweet that they let him go.

You resume your meander, ending up at the oldest part of the zoo. Here is where the small-gage train station is. When Tom sees it, his eyes light up.

“Where does it go?” he asks breathlessly.

“It makes a loop around the zoo, up the back way, out to the (city) formal Rose Garden, and back,” you tell him.

“How long does it take? Do we have time?” Once again, you are charmed by his excitement.

“It takes about 2 hours, and yes, if you want to, we have time!” you say.

“Oh, yes, please!” Tom says. “I love railways!”

You stand in line, buy tickets, and board the train. There are several families in the car with you, but no one seems to be paying attention to you, and you breathe easier, thinking Tom is going to get away without being recognized this time.

He starts out excited and enthusiastic, turning his head all around, looking at everything, but after a while, he gets quiet. You assume he’s just running out of steam. The man did just finish a three-week film shoot, after all! He turns to you, and it feels as if he is looking at you searchingly, but you can’t tell because he’s wearing his shades. He seems deep in thought, then he seems to snap out it, coming to a decision. He reaches into an inside pocket of his jacket, and takes out a small spiral notebook and a familiar-looking red pen and begins to write. Now, you don’t want to disturb him, thinking that he’s had a story idea, so you watch him curiously, but don’t say anything.

He writes for quite a while, then raises one hand to his lips in thought, visibly resets, takes off his shades, gives you a piercing look, then hands you the notebook and pen. He is not smiling.

And you are passing notes again. This is what he writes:

“I’m not going to say I never do this, because obviously I do. I will say that I never do this spontaneously; I always think about it very carefully. I always thoroughly consider who I pick to share this with. Film shoots are very strenuous, very stressful. I have various methods of coping with the tension. One of them is to go on a sight-seeing trip, like this one. But, I’m afraid this time, I didn’t choose very wisely… You are too attractive, and instead of my tension being relieved, it’s just gotten worse! Now, please don’t get me wrong, I have had a great time today, and thank you for that, but I have been walking around with a semi-stiffy since dinner last night! Which, I thought might happen, but l was hoping the tour would be enough to dispel it. It’s not. So, now, I move on to Plan B. Sometimes, I seek out someone, like yourself… well, because I never seek out costars or crewmembers — never someone who might blackmail me, or be awkward around after on set, and I totally avoid local ‘professionals’… but, someone like you… If this is the sort of encounter you would never entertain, then I totally understand that, and we can forget this ever happened, carry on with our tour, maybe have a nice dinner, then call it a day. But, if this is a favor you would consider doing for me, I would be most grateful, and I believe I can assure you that it would be more than satisfying for both of us.“

You look him in the eye, confusion and shock on your face. He is giving you the ‘puppy eyes’ again.

You write: “Are you asking what I think you are?”

His eyes look away, then back at you. He writes back: “Probably…”

You: ”Why me? I am old enough to be your mother! I’m married! I have stretch marks! I’m fat! I’m not pretty!…”

Him: “But, sweetheart, those first things just make you more attractive, more exciting! And you’re not fat! You ARE pretty! But, in addition, I know you probably won’t want to blackmail me, I’ve spent the day with you and I believe you to be genuine, sweet, caring. You aren’t going to hit me with a paternity suit, you’re not going to leave your husband and chase me around the world. You’re an adult, who can approach this in an adult manner, who can see it for what it is. You have wisdom and maturity. You do seem to be a fan, and bless you for that! And, to top it all off, in American slang, I can say that, lady, you are smokin’ hot!“

You feel yourself blushing, and you force yourself to meet his eyes again. Raising your eyebrows, you ask aloud, “Really?”

And earnestly, he nods and says “Really!”

You take out your phone and text your husband. You: 

Him :[ Well, cool. Lucky you! Remember what I said: In fantasies, anything goes. Take him to the house. Less chance of paparazzi there than at his hotel. Have fun. I love you.]

You: [You really are THE best! I love you! ]

Him: [ I’m sure you’ll make it up to me! ;) ]

You hand the phone to Tom, so he can read your conversation. He taps out a message, sends it, then gives you back the phone. You read what he has written to your husband:

Tom: [Hey mate, Tom here. Thanks for this. I promise I’ll take very good care of her.]

After a moment, you show Tom your husband’s response: [You’re welcome. Please see that you do.]

FAKE Chapter 5: And It Was All A Snow Globe

You read back over Chapter 4, fixing typos, adding words, subtracting stuff, getting ready to post the latest update. Ain’t technology grand? you think to yourself. You’ve been writing poetry and fiction for 40 years, and now, instead of stacks of spiral notebooks full of your large, looping handwriting, stories that no one will ever read, you now have your Surface Pro tablet, with touch screen, and the internet, and your blog. You still write all your stories out in long hand, but some magic in this computer converts it instantly to type font in a Word document, yay! And now, Chapter 4 of your very first multi-chapter fan fic is complete, and will be posted soon, and now you need to write Chapter 5. However, you’ve screwed up. You thought it would be ok to individually rate each chapter, and since the first one was real mild, you rated it ‘K’. But, it turns out that by blog rules, that means the whole thing has to be rated ‘K’, but the real Chapter 5 will be rated ‘M’. So, you decide to write the REAL Chapter 5 as a One-Shot. But, you do need to write a FAKE Chapter 5 to finish off the story. So, this is that chapter. Know that this is NOT the real end of this story! So, at this point, read one, or the other, read neither, read both. It’s your choice. As per the FAKE Chapter 5, it `Was All A Snow Globe´. It amuses you greatly to write that. Before you title the FAKE Chapter 5 with that name, you Google it to make sure it comes up. And it does! So, to anyone curious as to what it means, Google it, have a chuckle, and let me know what you think! I will be writing the REAL Chapter 5, which is the end of the story, as a One-Shot, maybe over the weekend, or maybe next week. And the title will be `Chapter 5: Intimate Encounter´, and it will be rated ‘M’, because as much as I promised myself I’d never write a smut piece about Tom, a real person, I just couldn’t help myself, and the thing practically wrote itself anyway!

So, if you aren’t into smut pieces, this FAKE chapter can be the end: And It Was All A Snow Globe! If you want what I intended the end to be, then wait for it! It will be soon! Thanks for reading!

The End (NOT)


	5. Intimate Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the smut! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the real ending to the story! The smuttyest thing I’ve ever written, so be warned! Hope y’all enjoy it!
> 
> Author's note: Those are my original notes. I have since written things much smuttier. All of the Unholy Three, for instance...

REAL Chapter 5 Intimate Encounter

Now that things are settled between you, Tom relaxes once more, and his boundless energy and enthusiasm returns in spades. He takes off his cap and shades and runs his fingers through his curls, the way you’ve seen him do countless times in interviews on You Tube. He is instantly recognized by the teenaged girl sitting in front of you.

“Oh my gosh, you’re Tom Hiddleston,” she squeals.

“Yes,” he says, sounding embarrassed this time.

And now everybody in the train car is scrambling to take selfies, shoving train ticket stubs and zoo maps at him for him to sign. When everyone else is done, the teenaged girl lifts up her tee-shirt, and says, “Will you sign my belly?”

Tom gives her a look, and says gently, “I’m afraid I don’t do that kind of thing.”

She instantly starts to pout, and giving you a dirty look, says, “Why? Won’t your mommy like it?”

Now she is on the receiving end of what you would describe as a stern “Loki look,” and Tom says, “This lovely woman is my date and companion for today, and I’ll thank you to remember it. You should never treat anyone, including yourself, with anything less than respect.” The girl doesn’t get an autograph

The train pulls into the station, and you look at Tom and ask, “Are you ready to go home?”

He leans over and kisses your cheek, nods, and says, ”Yes please.”

On the way back to your car, you hold hands, fingers intertwined, swinging between you. Every once in a while, Tom brings your hand up and kisses the back of it. You had been worried that this whole thing might be awkward and stiff, but so far, it feels comfortable and natural, but you admit deep down to yourself, that you are full of anticipation. You are starting to get aroused. A glance down at the front of Tom’s jeans indicates he is as well, although he has already told you that, anyway.

On the drive home, you say, “Would you like to help me make dinner? I was thinking grilled cheese or pancakes.” Out of the corner of your eye (you’re driving, after all), you see Tom’s eyes light up. “Pancakes!” he yells. “Let’s make pancakes!”

When you arrive, you lead Tom into your living room. “Welcome to my home,” you say.

“It’s lovely,” Tom says, looking around.

You tell him to just drop his jacket on a chair, then he follows you into your kitchen. You get out all the ingredients, pans, and utensils for making pancakes, mix up the batter, then you and Tom take turns pouring and flipping. You eat sitting at the kitchen table, and Tom behaves like a little kid, full of smacks and lip licking. He declares them the best pancakes he has ever eaten. You rinse and put your dishes in the dishwasher, then stand facing each other. Now, it is feeling a little weird.

Tom slowly approaches you, raising a hand and cupping your cheek. You can see his eyes close as he slowly brings his mouth to yours and kisses you gently. His lips are slightly parted, but that is all the deeper this kiss is, and you feel it in the pit of your gut, and you suck in a little gasping breath. He pulls away and looks you in the eyes.

“Your husband said this a fantasy for you,” he whispers. “I am honored to be the stuff of your fantasies. I would like to fulfill as many of them as I can for you, if you would feel comfortable telling me what you want?” It is a question, and you take a couple of seconds to decide if you can tell him or not. You are standing in your kitchen with Tom Hiddleston. He is wickedly sexy beyond your wildest dreams. It is surely a miracle that he is even here in the first place, and you know you will never, ever have this opportunity again. You decide to tell him everything.

“I want to do it all!” you say. “I want to taste you, I want to feel you, I want to….”

He raises that eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” you whisper.” I want to fuck you.”

He closes his eyes, and a shiver runs through his body. “I won’t sleep tonight until I’ve made you come at least twice,” he says softly. You aren’t sure if it’s a threat, or a promise.

He pulls you to him again, and this time when his mouth meets yours, it is open mouths and swirling tongues from both you. You love kissing, and you are finding that Tom is an exceptionally good kisser. You make a moaning sound deep in your throat, and Tom releases your mouth to kiss back along your cheek and jaw to your ear, nuzzling his nose, and whispering, “That noise you’re making is indecent, and should be illegal.” You chuckle, and so does he.

He returns to your mouth, and you decide he has too many clothes on. You push your hands under his tee-shirt, stroking your hands over the smooth skin of his back. He pulls away enough for you to remove the shirt and drop it to the floor. You are still in the kitchen.

“I want to feel you skin to skin,” Tom says, and pulls your tee-shirt off as well, then pulls you back into his arms for more heated kisses. You feel his hands at your bra clasp, and he makes short work of it, pulling the straps down your arms. At this point, you feel a little self-conscious, and you cross your arms over your breasts.

“Gravity has not been kind,“ you say, and Tom chuckles, but he takes your hands gently and pulls them down to your sides.

“Let me look at you,” he says softly. “You are so beautiful. Never be ashamed of the fabric your life has woven.”

He reaches out and cups your breasts, brushing his thumbs across your nipples, and you gasp. You press into his hands, and he takes you in his arms again, kissing your neck. You run your palms over his back and chest, and when you brush over his male nipples, he gasps, too. You brush down his back, cupping his ass and squeezing, pulling him tight to you, and you can feel his erection against you, straining his jeans. You drop to your knees, unbuckling his belt, undoing his jeans and pulling them down his legs, then you pull down his boxers. He steadies himself by putting his hands on your shoulders, stepping out of both garments.

“Wow,” you say, because he’s huge, straining proudly right in front of your face. “I’m not very good at this, but I’m really good with my hands. But I’ve got Tom Fucking Hiddleston naked in my kitchen, and I’m damn well gonna give him some head!” And you take him in your mouth, sucking and moving, holding him at the base with one hand, and massaging his balls with the other. He moans and wraps one hand in your hair, and fucks your mouth.

“God, (name), who told you you weren’t good at this?” he groans out. Well, that would be you yourself, as your husband doesn’t like it as well as when you pleasure him with your hands, so you just assumed you aren’t very good. But you don’t say anything, as your mouth is full.

“OK, enough,“ Tom says, pulling you off. “I’m not ready to be done, so we need to stop, or I’m gonna explode.” You are pleased and aroused at his words. “Bedroom,“ he says.

Well, you are not going to fuck another man in the bed you sleep in with your husband, so you take him to the guest bedroom. Before he follows you, he stops to retrieve some condoms from his jeans.

“I had hysterectomy in 2005,” you tell him.

“I want to keep you safe,” he says sweetly, pulling you to him for another hot kiss, and you are touched by his thoughtfulness.

“Now it’s my turn to taste you,” he says. “Lay down.” He positions you at the edge of the mattress and pulls your legs over his shoulders. “I’ve been told that l am very good at this,” he murmurs, and licks his tongue up your entrance, ending with a special flourish to your clit. He’s right; he IS very good at this. You are moaning now, clutching his curls in your fists, holding his face to your core, that wonderful, talented tongue of his licking and slurping.

“Oh god, I’m gonna come,” you wail softly.

And he pauses long enough to say, “Oh, please do come for me, sweetheart.”

And your release slams into you, and you clutch at his hair, moaning and thrashing. As you come down, you stroke his face, running your fingers over his scruffies. “Oh man, Tom, that was good,” you say, eyes closed.

He helps you move up the bed, then begins to knead and suckle your breasts. You feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and you take him in your hand, stroking gently. You know you’re good with your hands, so you are not surprised at all when he moans and stops what he is doing to enjoy what you are doing to him.

He throws his head back, eyes shut tight, and moans out, “Oh god, (name), where did you learn to do that?” He is moaning and panting now, and you are feeling so powerful, and incredibly turned on, even though you just came a few minutes ago. At your age, you don’t usually have more than one orgasm in a session, but you feel that you will tonight.

“Stop stop stop,” Tom says. “Let me calm down.” You stop stroking, but continue to hold him in your hand, squeezing gently every once in a while. Tom rolls towards you, propping his head up on his elbow, looking into your eyes, nuzzling your neck and dropping little kisses on your face and across your jaw. He kisses you passionately, and says “I’d like to fuck you now.”

“Yes, please,” you say, kissing him back. He gets a condom and goes to open it, but you take it from him. “Let me,” you say, and you open the package and roll it down over his enormous cock.

“Would you ride me?” he asks.

You give a growling grunt, and pushing your hands on his chest, move up and straddle him. He guides himself to your entrance, and you sink down on him, sheathing him to the hilt.

“Gah, that feels good,” you grit out, and begin to move up and down on his shaft. You gradually increase the pace. You are getting closer and closer; you really are going to come twice tonight. Tom sits up and puts his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m going to roll us,” he murmurs. ”I need to fuck you harder.”

“Yes yes yes,” is all you can get out. You are almost incoherent with pleasure. In some distant part of your mind, you are aware that he is close to his climax, as he is panting and grunting, slamming into you so hard that the impact makes a slapping sound.

“Nngh… Come for me, baby, come for me…” Tom begs.

And you do, and it is glorious, and goes on and on, and in the middle of it Tom yells your name and his face contorts in pleasure as he reaches his own climax and comes hard.

When it is over, he gathers you to him, kissing you gently, tucking you both in. “I’m a cuddler,” he says. “I want to hold you all night while we sleep.”

“I’m a cuddler, too,” you say, nestling deeper into his arms.

You wake early Sunday morning, your routine being set. Tom is still asleep; he looks positively blissful. He is still holding you, and you have no desire to move whatsoever. However, you feel him stirring against your thigh, and wonder how much longer he might sleep, and whether he might like to take care of that morning stiffy. You reach down and take him gently in your hand, not stroking, but just holding him.

“Mmmm,” he says, not opening his eyes. “Good morning to you too. Does this mean you’d be willing to have another go-round?”

“Pretty silly question, Hiddleston,” you say cheekily, and start to stroke him.

He makes you come three more times, and you get him off twice, and he hugs you and says, ”I’m hungry.”

“We can make grilled cheese,” you say. “Let’s have lunch, then shower and dress. And let me put your underwear and tee-shirt in the laundry.“

You get him a pair of your husband’s boxers to wear so that you can wash his, then you make and eat lunch. You shower together, and it is very affectionate, but you are both thoroughly sated, and you wash each other’s backs and hug a lot.

His clothes are done, and you dress, and cuddle together on the couch, feeling lazy.

“What time will your husband be home?” Tom asks.

“Probably around four,” you say.

“Would it be weird if l wanted to meet him?” Tom says, looking you in the eye.

“A little,” you say, “but I think he’d actually like it. Do you have time? Could you stay for dinner?”

“I don’t have to leave til tomorrow,“ Tom says happily. “I can have dinner with you, then you can take me back to my hotel.”

“I’m sad this has to end,” you say wistfully, kissing his mouth sweetly, “but I know it has to.”

“You’ll feel differently when your husband gets home,” Tom assures you, returning your kiss.

You turn on the TV, and you and Tom cuddle together until your husband does get home. When you hear his key in the lock, you reluctantly separate, moving to opposite ends of the couch. Your husband comes in, carrying his back pack and sleeping bag. Tom rises, extending his hand, and your husband shakes it.

“I’m Tom Hiddleston,” Tom says. ‘You must be (-).”

“Yes, that’s right, “ your husband confirms. “It’s nice to meet you. Did you have a good tour yesterday?” He bends down to kiss you, and you hug him tight. “You’re the best,” you whisper in his ear.

Tom says, “It was an awesome tour. This is a beautiful city. And thank you for everything you’ve done. You’re very understanding.”

Your husband raises an eyebrow, looking keenly at Tom. “Did you treat her right?”

You squirm in your seat. This is so awkward.

“Yes, I believe so,” Tom says confidently but humbly.

Your husband turns to you “Did he?” he asks.

You nod, look at Tom, then your husband, and say, “Yes, it was magical. Really a fantasy come true.”

For some reason, that strikes all three of you as funny, and you begin to laugh together, and you know it’s going to be OK.

“Tom’s staying for dinner, then I’ll take him back to his hotel,” you tell your husband. ”Why don’t you take a shower while Tom and I make dinner? Tuna and noodles.”

“Great idea!” he replies and that is what you do.

You pull up outside Tom’s hotel, and he pulls you into his arms, putting his forehead against yours. “Thank you so much, for everything,” he says. “I had the best time. This is the very most satisfying encounter of this sort I have ever had. You are the very best. I know I will never forget you.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, closes his eyes briefly, hugs you one last time, then gets out of the car and walks to the hotel. Right before he goes through the door, he turns and waves, and blows you a kiss. You return it, and then he is gone.

You drive back to your house, and join your husband in bed.

“So, how was it?” he asks.

“Well,” you say, kissing him gently, “it was an amazing fantasy. Absolutely everything I dreamed it would be. But I love my reality more!” you tell him, holding him close and kissing him again.

You post the photos Tom took of you on facebook and twitter, and suddenly you have a lot more followers, including Tom. That totally thrills you! He sends you a couple of text messages, to make sure you are all right; and you are touched by his thoughtfulness. About six weeks later, you receive a package from England, and when you open it, you find a framed, studio-quality print of the photo Tom took where he is kissing your cheek. He has written an inscription, and it says:

“To (name), thank you for a wonderful dream. I will never forget you. Love your life, and don’t be afraid to ask for what you want and to live the fantasy! All my love, Tom<3 ‘Tom Hiddleston´”

Later that year, you find out that they will soon be filming a Sandra Bullock movie in your city….

The End


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